Meadowbrooke Church

Meadowbrooke Church
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Podcast for Meadowbrooke Church Season 1 - Identity (Ephesians) Season 2 - Christians Say the Darnedest Things - Season 2 Season 3 - The Shepherd (Psalm 23) Season 4 - Faith & Works (James) Season 5 - Guest Speakers Season 6 - The Tree Season 7 - Unassigned Season 8 - Revelation

  1. FEB 9

    To the Church in Ephesus

    I believe the book of Revelation is intentionally shaped by the rhythm of the seven Jewish feasts,  with deep echoes of the Exodus and Israel’s wilderness journey woven throughout its visions.  We have already seen how this works in chapter 1, where the imagery echoes Passover. Passover  marked Israel’s deliverance from slavery through the blood of a substitute—and in Revelation  1:12–16, that substitute is revealed in all His risen glory. Jesus stands among His churches as the  victorious Lamb who was slain and now lives forever.  Because of His sacrifice, the Christian belongs to God. If you have been redeemed by Almighty  God through His Son, what is there to fear? Jesus Himself answers that question: “Fear not, I  am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and  I have the keys of Death and Hades” (Rev. 1:17–18). Our confidence is not rooted in our  circumstances, but in the One who has conquered death itself.  As we move into Revelation 2–3 and read the seven letters to the churches, the dominant echo is  the Feast of Unleavened Bread, which immediately followed Passover. This feast called God’s  redeemed people to live holy lives, set apart for Him (Lev. 11:44–45; 1 Pet. 1:16–17). Israel  removed all leaven from their homes as a visible reminder that they belonged to the Lord and  were no longer to live under the old patterns of corruption. That same call still comes to us  today: “You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your  body” (1 Cor. 6:19–20).  Each of the seven churches faced real and pressing challenges in their own day—and what they  struggled with are many of the same things we struggle with today, just dressed differently.  While we will look at each church individually, here is a brief snapshot of what we will  encounter:  The church in Ephesus had lost its first love.  The church in Smyrna was about to suffer “tribulation” for ten days.  The church in Pergamum struggled with faithfulness to sound doctrine. • The church in Thyatira tolerated a false teacher within the congregation. • The church in Sardis was spiritually lethargic and nearly dead.  The church in Philadelphia faithfully clung to the word of God.  The church in Laodicea was lukewarm and missionally useless. In every one of these churches, there was the danger of leaven—sin quietly working its way  through the house. And the call of Christ was to remove it: through renewed love for Jesus and  for one another, faithful endurance in suffering, a commitment to truth, intolerance for evil,  vigilance against spiritual apathy, unflinching obedience to Christ, and a wholehearted devotion  to the mission of God.  About forty years before Revelation was written, Paul wrote about God’s expectation for His  church: “Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ  loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God” (Eph. 5:1-2).  Revelation 1 is about the One who makes our salvation possible. Revelation 2-3 addresses the  kind of people He calls us to be. So, when we come to Revelation 4, we encounter the One on  the throne who is holy, holy, holy!   The City of Ephesus  When the gospel came to Ephesus, it was a wealthy and influential trading city, best known for  the Temple of Artemis (also called Diana), one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. The  city’s economy, culture, and moral life centered on the worship of this goddess. Artemis worship  was deeply sexualized and demonic, marked by ritual immorality and idolatry (1 Cor. 10:20).  Ephesus was a place where spiritual darkness was not hidden—it was celebrated,  institutionalized, and profitable.  Into this city, the gospel came with unmistakable power, as it always does in God’s timing and in  His way. What we read in the epistle to the Romans was experienced in Ephesus: “For I am not  ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes...”  (Rom. 1:16). When the apostle Paul preached Christ in Ephesus, lives were transformed, and the  worship of Artemis was directly challenged. So disruptive was the gospel that those who profited  from idolatry feared economic collapse, admitting that Paul had persuaded many that “gods  made with hands are not gods at all” (Acts 19:26). Paul spent over two years there, and in this  spiritually hostile environment, God birthed a faithful church—the same church later addressed  by Christ Himself in Revelation 2. What makes Jesus’ words to Ephesus so sobering is not the  city’s darkness but the fact that a church born in such devotion, perseverance, and truth would  later be warned: “You have abandoned the love you had at first” (2:4).  So what happened? To answer that question, we need to first recognize the many things Jesus  praises the church for.   What the Ephesian Church Was Doing Right  The Ephesian church was commended for many things by Jesus such as their toil, patient  endurance, and intolerance for evil. Heraclitus, a native of Ephesus and philosopher, spoke with  open contempt of his city’s moral corruption—so severe that later writers summarized his view by saying no one could live in Ephesus without weeping.1 The fact that the church was able to  endure for forty years in a city known for its sexual promiscuity and demonized idolatrous  worship, while holding on to biblical orthodoxy, is staggering!   Because of their orthodoxy and fidelity to the Word of God, the church was intolerant of evil,  refused to ignore false teachers, and shared Jesus’s hatred of the Nicolaitans. Forty years earlier,  Paul warned the elders of the Ephesian church: “I know that after my departure fierce wolves  will come in among you, not sparing the flock; and from among your own selves will arise  men speaking twisted things, to draw away the disciples after them. Therefore be alert,  remembering that for three years I did not cease night or day to admonish every one with  tears” (Acts. 20:29-31). This is what the church did well, and Jesus praised them for it.   Now, notice what Jesus does not say to the church in Ephesus. He does not say they were being  too orthodox. He does not say they were too truthful, or that their intolerance of evil, false  teachers, and the works of the Nicolaitans was too extreme. Jesus does not tell the church to dial  it back but instead celebrates these as examples of what they were doing well. What the church  did well was refusing to yield to the pressures from their city to conform.   Before we look at what the church got wrong, we need to address who the Nicolaitans were and  why Jesus hated their teaching. From what we know, the Nicolaitans were a heretical “Christian”  sect associated with the teaching of Balaam (Rev. 2:14-15). They taught that the grace of God  permitted freedom to engage in the kinds of things their pagan neighbors enjoyed, such as sexual  immorality and full participation in pagan temple feasts. Why? Because grace covered it all.   We will come back to Balaam when we look at the church in Pergamum, but for now what you  need to know is that Balaam is known for his false teaching that served to seduce the men of  Israel to engage in sexual immorality with the daughters of Moab that also resulted in the  worship of their gods in place of obedience and worship of Yahweh (see Num. 25). The  Nicolaitans did not deny Jesus, they just reinterpreted what obedience to Jesus really meant, in  that you could both be loyal to Jesus and actively pursue and participate in the kinds of things the  Word of God commands the people of God to flee from. The Ephesian church was rightfully  commended for their hatred and intolerance of the works of the Nicolaitans because Jesus shares  their hatred for the same reasons.   Listen carefully. Jesus does not merely disagree with teachings of the Nicolaitans— He hates them. He hates any belief that suggests a person can remain loyal to Him while  willfully embracing the very sins He died to free us from. The cross was not a license to make  peace with sin; it was God’s declaration of war against it. To claim Christ while pursuing what  nailed Him to the tree is not freedom—it is self-deception. Christ did not die to make sin safe,  but to make His people holy.  1 Richard D. Phillips, Revelation, ed. Richard D. Phillips, Philip Graham Ryken, and Daniel M. Doriani, Reformed  Expository Commentary (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2017), 91. What the Ephesian Church Got Wrong  So what was it that the church in Ephesus lost? Well, we know it wasn’t the church’s orthodoxy.  It was the love they had at first. What love did they have at first? I believe the love the church  lost was a combination of their love for Jesus and others. I believe this because of what the  apostle Paul wrote in his epistle to the Ephesians and what Jesus said the church needed to do to  regain the love they had lost. First, let’s look at Jesus’ criticism in verses 4-5, “But I have this  against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first. Remember therefore from  where you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first. If not, I will come to you  and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent.”  The way back to regain what they had lost was to first remember where they had fallen or had  lost sight of their love, then to repent by doing the works they had done at first. What were the  works they had done at first? We are given a few clues in Ephesians about the church from what  Paul says at the beginning and the end of his epistle to the Ephesians.  1st Clue: “For this reason, because I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your  love

    47 min

  2. FEB 1

    The First and the Last

    Permit me to share a story from my own experience that helps explain why it took me so long to  preach a sermon series on the book of Revelation. When I was twenty-eight, I had been ordained  as a minister of the gospel only a short time earlier and was serving as an interim pastor at  Calvary Baptist Church, a congregation of roughly three hundred people. The church was  struggling. Years of poor leadership decisions and the dismissal of one of its senior pastors had  left it in a fragile state. I was young, inexperienced, and keenly aware that I had far more to learn  than to offer.  When Calvary eventually called its next senior pastor—whom I will refer to as “Bob”—he  inherited both me and another assistant pastor. Less than a year into his tenure, Bob called me  into his office to discuss my future. He asked what I hoped for in ministry, and I told him I  planned to finish seminary and learn as much as I could from him, given his decades of pastoral  experience. Then, without warning, he asked me what I believed about the rapture. Caught off  guard, I answered honestly: I believed Christ would return for His people, but I was not yet  certain whether that would be before, during, or after the tribulation. Bob paused, looked at me,  and said simply, “Well, that’s a problem.”  It was a problem because Calvary’s doctrinal statement treated a pre-tribulation rapture not as a  point of discussion, but as a nonnegotiable. One passage often cited in support of that view is 1  Thessalonians 5:9—“For God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through  our Lord Jesus Christ.” Yet the “wrath” Paul describes there is not the suffering believers  endure in this world, but the final judgment reserved for the condemned. That conversation  marked me deeply. It revealed how quickly the book of Revelation—and the questions  surrounding it—can become a test of loyalty rather than a call to faithfulness. And it helps  explain why I approached Revelation for so many years with caution, hesitation, and no small  measure of pastoral concern.  Suffering (Tribulation) is a Part of the Christian Life (v. 9)  What troubled me about Pastor Bob and the doctrinal statement Calvary Baptist Church has since  removed is that this view is difficult to reconcile with Jesus’ own teaching on what Christians  should expect as His followers. Jesus said plainly, “You will be hated by all for my name’s  sake” (Matt. 10:22). And again, “In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I  have overcome the world” (John 16:33).   The apostles echoed the same expectation. Paul warned new believers, “Through many  tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God” just after he was stoned and left for dead  outside of the city of Lystra (Acts 14:22). Peter likewise urged Christians not to be shocked by  suffering, but to see it as participation in Christ’s own path: “Do not be surprised at the fiery  trial when it comes upon you to test you… rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s  sufferings” (1 Pet. 4:12–13).  The word tribulation simply means affliction. In Revelation, tribulation is never portrayed as  some vague or theoretical idea, but as a real and immediate experience for faithful believers.1It  is the context of John’s exile, the churches’ suffering, and the cry of the martyrs. Tribulation is  the setting in which the church endures, bears witness, and waits for Christ’s victory.  Let me press this one step further. In Matthew 24, Jesus warned His disciples, “And you will  hear of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not alarmed, for this must take place,  but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom,  and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places. All these are but the beginning   of the birth pains” (vv. 6–8). Then He said,  “They will deliver you up to tribulation and put you to death, and you will be hated  by all nations for my name’s sake. And then many will fall away and betray one  another and hate one another. And many false prophets will arise and lead many  astray. And because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold.  But the one who endures to the end will be saved. And this gospel of the kingdom  will be proclaimed throughout the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and  then the end will come” (vv. 9–14).  Jesus then went on to prophesy about events we know with certainty occurred in AD 70: “So  when you see the abomination of desolation spoken of by the prophet Daniel, standing in  the holy place (let the reader understand), then let those who are in Judea flee to the  mountains… For then there will be great tribulation, such as has not been from the  beginning of the world until now, no, and never will be” (vv. 15–21).  History records that everything Jesus warned would happen did, in fact, occur. Roman soldiers  under Titus breached Jerusalem, entered the temple, slaughtered priests while sacrifices were  being offered, piled bodies in the sanctuary, erected pagan images, and offered sacrifices to  Roman gods, including sacrifices to the emperor himself. The temple was dismantled stone by  stone, fulfilling Jesus’ words: “Truly, I say to you, there will not be left here one stone upon  another that will not be thrown down” (Matt. 24:2).  John lived through those events. More than twenty years later, he wrote to seven churches not as  a distant observer but as a participant: “I, John, your brother and partner in the tribulation  and the kingdom and the patient endurance that are in Jesus, was on the island called  Patmos on account of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus.” The question to consider  until we reach Revelation 6 is: What tribulation is John participating in? The persecution of  Christians didn’t end in AD 70. What began as local opposition has become global. Some regions  where the gospel once flourished—such as North Korea and Nigeria—are now among the most  dangerous for Christians. A challenging reality of the Christian life is that faithfulness to Jesus  often leads to suffering. John introduces himself not as an exception, but as a fellow participant  in this tribulation.  Whatever view of the tribulation you currently hold, know that John and the first-century church  were convinced they were living in it—not as a fixed or future timetable, but as a present season  of suffering that began with Christ’s ascension and will end only with His return.  Jesus Will Not Abandon the Christian in Life (vv. 9-16)  When John received his visions, it was on the Lord’s Day. Before anything was revealed about  God’s plan for the world, it was a day set apart for worship. Many believe this is the earliest  technical use of the Lord’s Day to refer to Sunday—the day of Christ’s resurrection and the dawn  of the new creation. What is most significant is that John hears from the Lord while  worshiping the Lord.  While in a state of worship, John hears a loud voice behind him like a trumpet. This recalls Sinai,  where we are told, “there were thunders and lightnings… and a very loud trumpet blast, so  that all the people in the camp trembled” (Exod. 19:16). The trumpet-like voice commands  John: “Write what you see in a book and send it to the seven churches” (v. 11). When John  turns, he does not see a trumpet, but seven golden lampstands, and “in the midst of the  lampstands one like a son of man” (v. 12).  Do not miss the significance: the lampstands represent the churches (v. 20), and Jesus stands in  their midst. The Greek word mesos means among and in the middle. In other words, in the  midst of tribulation and suffering, Jesus has not abandoned His people. This is the  fulfillment of His promise: “Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matt.  28:20).  The long golden sash Jesus wears is that of a priest (cf. Exod. 28:4; 29:5). His golden sash is not  a fashion statement but a firm reminder that He is our great High Priest, who intercedes on our  behalf as the One who advocates for all those He has redeemed through the shedding of His  blood once and for all. As Hebrews 7 tells us, “He holds his priesthood permanently, because  he continues forever. Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near  to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them” (vv. 24–25).   The hairs on Jesus’ head are white like the whitest wool, as Daniel describes the Ancient of  Days: “His clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne  was fiery flames; its wheels were burning fire” (Dan. 7:9). Here Jesus is identified with eternal  wisdom and divine purity—equal with the Father, yet uniquely the Son. He is the Everlasting  One, and His wisdom is infinite.  Jesus’ eyes are like a flame of fire. This does not mean He has literal beams shooting from His  eyes any more than the sharp two-edged sword from His mouth is a literal sword (v. 16). His  eyes blaze like fire, revealing that nothing escapes His sight—no motive hidden, no deed  overlooked, and no wound His people suffer that will go unnoticed. His knowledge knows no  bounds.  Our Savior’s feet are like burnished bronze. There is no tiptoeing with Him. Our great High  Priest and awesome King embodies unshakable strength as the One who will judge the nations  with perfect justice and holy resolve. He is omnipotent—solid, sure, and infinitely strong.  The voice of our Savior matches His divine wisdom, all-encompassing knowledge, and  unequalled strength as Yahweh. When He speaks, He does so with pervasive power: “For by  him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible,

    54 min

  3. JAN 25

    Behold Our Great God

    In a world that exalts earthly power and demands allegiance, the book of Revelation pulls back the curtain and shows us the true throne of heaven. It calls God’s people to place their hope and loyalty not in the rulers of this age, but in Jesus Christ—the One who governs history and alone deserves our allegiance.   To grasp Revelation rightly, we must consider the circumstances in which it was given. Most scholars agree that the book was written near the end of the first century, likely between AD 90 and 95, during the reign of the Roman emperor Domitian. John tells us that he received this revelation while exiled on the island of Patmos “on account of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus” (Rev. 1:9). His exile was not a voluntary retreat, but punishment for unwavering faithfulness to Christ.   John had lived a long and costly life of discipleship. He had outlived the other apostles, witnessed the rise and fall of emperors, and seen friends and fellow believers martyred for their allegiance to Jesus. He had watched the brutality of Rome unleashed—most notably in the devastation of Jerusalem—and he had seen firsthand what happens when earthly powers claim absolute authority.   Long before Rome’s pressure intensified, many Jewish believers in Jesus had already been pushed out of their own communities—excluded from synagogues, cut off from family life, and treated as apostates rather than brothers. Faithfulness to Christ often meant losing one’s religious home before ever confronting the power of the empire.   By the time John was exiled, the pressure on the church had intensified. Under Domitian, emperor worship became a test of loyalty, especially in Asia Minor. For most citizens, participation was routine. For Christians, it was a crisis. To confess “Jesus is Lord” was to deny Caesar that title, and refusal could lead to social exclusion, economic loss, exile, or worse. This was not a moment of widespread slaughter, but of steady compromise. Christians were not being asked, “Will you die for Christ today?” They were being asked, “Will you bend—just a little?”   It is into this world that Revelation was given. The very word revelation means unveiling. God is not hiding His purposes; He is revealing them. This book was written to a pressured church to show who truly reigns, how history is moving, and why faithfulness to Jesus is always worth the cost. And that is where Revelation begins.   Behold the Blessing (vv. 1-3) When it comes to Revelation, the book is not Revelations. It is not a series of secret disclosures reserved for the most skilled students of prophetic Scripture. It is not a collection of clues designed to help us identify the next antichrist—especially since we are told that many antichrists have already come. It is also not a puzzle to figure out the timing of Christ’s return, for Jesus even said, “But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only” (Matt. 24:36). Revelation is a revelation—but more precisely, it is the Revelation of Jesus Christ. That is how the book begins, and that is what the book is about.   So what does Revelation reveal about Jesus? Everything.   From beginning to end, Revelation presents Jesus in the fullness of His person and work. He is the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth (1:5). He is the First and the Last, the Living One (1:17–18), the Holy One, the True One (3:7), and the originator of God’s creation (3:14). He is the Lion of the tribe of Judah and the Root of David (5:5), yet also the Lamb who was slain and the Worthy One (5:6, 9, 12). He is the Son of Man (14:14), the Word of God (19:13), and the King of kings and Lord of lords (19:16). He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End (22:13), the Root and the Descendant of David, and the Bright Morning Star (22:16).   For this reason, the book of Revelation may rightly be called the most Christ-centered book in the Bible. How can I say that? Because, as Paul tells us, all the promises of God find their “Yes” in Jesus Christ—and Revelation is the book that shows us, again and again, how Jesus is God’s “Yes” to every promise He has ever made.   This is the primary reason why we are assured a blessing for all who read, hear, and keep what is written in Revelation. You do know, don’t you, that you can read something and not hear it right?  You can read a verse in the Bible and not really hear it, just as easily as someone can tell you something and it goes in one ear and then out the other with little to no effect.     I believe part of that blessing is reflected in what The Center for Bible Engagement discovered through a large-scale study on Bible engagement involving more than 600,000 participants. The results surprised many people—including those who conducted the research. The study found that individuals who engaged with Scripture at least four times a week experienced: a 30% drop in loneliness a 32% drop in anger a 40% drop in bitterness in marriage and relationships a 57% drop in alcoholism a 60% drop in sexual sins, including pornography addiction a 62% drop in those who felt distant from God   So what does it mean to “keep” the book of Revelation? It means more than reading it or debating it—it means treasuring its words and following the Christ it reveals in obedient faith. The very first sentence of the book gives us this clue: “The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave Him to show to His servants…” The word translated servants is the Greek word doulos, a term that speaks of belonging, allegiance, and obligation. A true Christian, then, is not someone who merely speaks well of Jesus, but someone who gladly submits to Him—yielding not just words, but life itself—in faithful service to the One who is revealed as Lord.   And this is why we are called to read, hear, and keep the words of Revelation—not only because of the blessing it promises, but because “the time is near.” What time is near? Not simply the final return of Christ, though that hope is never absent. Rather, John is pointing to the nearness of pressure, opposition, and persecution that come when allegiance to Jesus collides with the demands of the world. Revelation prepares God’s people to remain faithful when conformity is rewarded and faithfulness is costly.   Behold Our Triune God (vv. 4-6) So why should we press on in light of what is coming? Why read, hear, and keep the words of this book? Because of who God is. Our God is the LORD Almighty—Yahweh—and there is no one like Him. He is the One who greets His people and extends grace and peace to those who belong to Him.   John’s greeting is not casual; it is deeply theological and addressed to the seven churches. These were seven real, historical congregations located in strategic cities of Asia Minor. Yet because the number seven signifies fullness and completeness, they also represent the church as a whole—God’s people in every generation and in every place. In that sense, the seven churches represent us.   And it is to this church—then and now—that grace and peace are given. They come first from the eternal, self-existent God, the One Isaiah proclaimed when he said, “Thus says the LORD, the King of Israel and his Redeemer, the LORD of hosts: ‘I am the first and I am the last; besides me there is no god’” (Isa. 44:6). This is the God who stands at the beginning and the end of history—the God who is never threatened, never surprised, and never displaced.   This God is also all-sufficient and unchanging. James calls Him “the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change” (Jas. 1:17). In a world where rulers rise and fall and circumstances shift, God remains the same. That is why His grace does not fade and His peace does not fail. In Revelation 1:4, He is described as the One “who is and who was and who is to come.” This is God the Father—the great I AM—who once set His people free by crushing Pharaoh and now meets His suffering church with grace and peace. This grace and peace also come from the sevenfold Spirit—the Holy Spirit. The language of “seven spirits” speaks not of multiple beings, but of the fullness and perfection of the one Spirit who proceeds from God’s throne. It is the Holy Spirit who applies God’s grace to our hearts, sustains us in suffering, and empowers faithful witness.   And finally, this grace and peace come from Jesus Christ, the Son. John describes Him as the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth. Jesus is the faithful witness because He perfectly revealed God and bore faithful testimony to the truth—even unto death. As the firstborn from the dead, He conquered death on our behalf, guaranteeing resurrection life for all who belong to Him. As Paul declares, “Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Cor. 15:20), and again, “He is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything He might be preeminent” (Col. 1:18).   Our risen Lord is not waiting to rule—He already reigns. He is not described as one who will be the ruler of the kings of the earth, but as the One who is the ruler of the kings of the earth. Having lived the life we could not live, died the death we deserved, and risen in victory, Jesus is now exalted at the right hand of the Father. As Scripture declares, “At the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Phil. 2:9–11).   But that’s not

    49 min

  4. JAN 18

    An Obscured Blessing

    Keith Miller Meadowbrooke Church January 18, 2026   An Obscured Blessing Revelation 1:1-3   Introduction I remember the first time I sat down to read the book of Revelation. It was the summer of 1992—a pleasant Pennsylvania evening—sitting on the back patio of the small house where I spent my teenage years. That night, I read all twenty-two chapters in one sitting. Early on, I underlined a verse that encouraged me: “Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy…” (Rev. 1:3). Those words felt like a promise—that something good awaited anyone willing to step into this book.   But as I kept reading, I grew more and more confused—especially when I reached chapter 6. The imagery became overwhelming, the questions multiplied, and when I finished, I had only highlighted a handful of verses. That night marked both my introduction to Revelation and the limits of my confidence in it—a confidence that, for many years, did not grow much beyond that patio chair.   Part of the reason I read Revelation in the first place had to do with a movie I watched with my friends called A Thief in the Night, which focused on what theologians call the rapture—the belief that believers will be caught up to meet Christ in connection with a future tribulation. Passages like 1 Corinthians 15 and 1 Thessalonians 4 are often cited in support of this view. For the sake of time, we read just the words from 1 Thessalonians: “The Lord himself will descend from heaven… and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words” (v. 16).   Because the word rapture does not appear in the Bible, many people encounter it through popular books and films, such as the Left Behind series. Those works helped popularize one particular way of reading prophetic texts—known as dispensationalism—which has had a significant influence on American evangelical churches. Dispensationalism is one of several interpretive approaches Christians have used to read Revelation, and it developed in the nineteenth century before spreading widely through conferences, study Bibles, and evangelical institutions.   My own thinking as a new Christian was deeply shaped by this framework. I share that not to critique my past, but to be honest about the lenses I brought with me as I opened this book—and the lenses many of us bring with us still.   It’s also important to know that dispensationalism is not the only way Christians have read Revelation. Throughout church history, believers have approached this book in several major ways: Preterist, Historicist, and Idealist readings. Faithful Christians have held each of these views while confessing the same gospel and worshiping the same Lord. That diversity of interpretation is not new. In fact, G. K. Chesterton once observed, “Though St. John the Evangelist saw many strange monsters in his vision, he saw no creature so wild as one of his own commentators.” [1]   How to Read Revelation Today When I began my Revelation and Its Parallels project, I heard a simple statement—one I’ve never been able to trace to a single source—that has guided everything since: “Revelation cannot mean for us what it did not first mean for John and the first-century church.” That sentence has served as a compass for my book, my preparation for this sermon, and every message in this series.   I believe this principle is confirmed by Revelation 1:3, where we are given one of the clearest clues for how this book is meant to be read: “Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear, and who keep what is written in it, for the time is near.” This is the first of seven blessings in Revelation,[2] and it was originally spoken to seven real churches that existed in history. That blessing was not abstract or theoretical—it was given to ordinary believers gathered in local congregations.   To read Revelation rightly, we must first recognize that it is a letter written to seven churches. At the same time, it is also apocalyptic—from the Greek apokalypsis, meaning “unveiling.” Apocalyptic literature communicates truth through visions and symbolic language, revealing heavenly realities that are normally hidden from everyday sight. It invites us to question the assumption that appearances always reflect reality. What seems powerful and permanent by earthly standards may already be exposed as temporary when seen from heaven’s perspective.   What does that mean for us today? Revelation was written to first-century churches, but it was written for the church in every generation. It speaks across time, culture, and ethnic boundaries precisely because it first spoke clearly and meaningfully to the first-century church. And one of the clearest ways John teaches us to read this book is through the careful and consistent use of numbers—especially the number seven. Let me show you what I mean.   Reading Revelation Through Its Use of Numbers There are a series of numbers that you must be aware of that are used throughout the Bible.  When you are trying to figure out what those numbers mean, you MUST understand how those numbers are used throughout the Bible.  So, the important numbers you need to be aware are 3, 4, 7, 10, 12, 24, 3½ (also 42 months, and 1260 days), and 1000.  I have a whole chapter in the beginning of my book on the use of numbers in the book of Revelation, but for now let me highlight why this is important without getting into the weeds.   The Number Seven The most predominant number used throughout the book of Revelation is the number seven. Many people associate seven with judgment—but Revelation begins with seven churches, not seven disasters (Rev. 1–3). Before Christ judges the world, He walks among His churches, knows them by name, commends their faithfulness, and calls them to endurance. Throughout Revelation, the number seven consistently communicates divine completeness—the fullness of God’s purposeful and perfect work.   There are not only seven churches, but also the seven Spirits of God. The seven Spirits are before God’s throne (Rev. 1:4) and are sent out into all the earth (Rev. 5:6). John is drawing on the imagery of Zechariah 4, where the emphasis is not on multiple spirits, but on the fullness of God’s Spirit at work. John is not describing seven distinct spirits, but the complete, sevenfold Spirit of the Lord. Each time we encounter this phrase, we should hear the echo of Zechariah 4:6: “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the LORD of hosts.”   In Revelation 5, John is told, “Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah… has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals” (v. 5). Then something that happens often in Revelation occurs: John hears one thing, but when he turns to see, he sees something unexpected. In verse 6 he sees “a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain, with seven horns and with seven eyes.” Jesus is the Lamb. The seven horns do not describe physical features, but complete authority, since horns symbolize power. The seven eyes represent perfect knowledge—the Lamb fully knows His people and their suffering.   Throughout Revelation there is a scroll with seven seals, followed by seven trumpets and seven bowls of wrath. But here is what often surprises people: there are also seven blessings, sometimes called the seven beatitudes of Revelation. So let me ask this question: if the number seven is used everywhere else in the book to communicate a real and meaningful theological truth, why would we assume it functions differently when applied to a period of suffering often called the tribulation?   The number seven is even applied to evil powers—not to suggest their equality with God, but to show how evil attempts to mimic the completeness that belongs to God alone. Even then, its power is borrowed and its end is certain. We will return to the number seven again at the end of the sermon.   The Number Three The number three is also an important number in Revelation. It does not appear as obviously or as frequently as the number seven, but it is woven throughout the book in meaningful ways. We see it immediately in Revelation 1:4, where John writes: “Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven Spirits who are before his throne, and from Jesus Christ the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of kings on earth.”   In the Greek, John begins very simply and deliberately: “from the One who is, and who was, and who is coming.”[3] This threefold description refers to the Father and emphasizes His faithful presence across all of time—past, present, and future. Before Revelation introduces conflict, judgment, or suffering, it grounds the church in the identity of the eternal God.   Here’s the encouragement: before Revelation tells us what will happen, it tells us who God is. The book does not begin with fear, but with divine testimony—a settled assurance that the God who was faithful in the past is present now and will remain faithful in what is yet to come.   Before Revelation confronts the church with suffering, it anchors the church in the faithful, triune God who speaks with one unified voice.   The Number Four After Revelation reveals the nature of God, it shifts focus to encompass all of creation and its relationship to Him. In the Bible, the number four frequently symbolizes the entirety of the created world—representing the total extent of God’s handiwork. By utilizing this number, Revelation emphasizes that John’s vision is not limited to a specific location or group, but instead embraces the whole of creation.  We see this in Revelation 4 with the four living creatures who surround the throne o

    51 min

  5. JAN 11

    The Cursed Son

    Introduction: The Story We Have Been Telling The entire Bible tells a single, unified story—a story that begins in Genesis and finds its fulfillment in Revelation. It opens with God creating the world and placing two trees in the garden: the tree of life, from which Adam and Eve were free to eat, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, which God, in His loving wisdom, commanded them to avoid. Tragically, instead of trusting God’s goodness and choosing life, Adam and Eve reached for what was forbidden. In that moment, they embraced curse rather than blessing by taking from the tree God had graciously withheld for their good.   The pinnacle of creation came when God declared, “Let Us make mankind in Our image, according to Our likeness…” (Gen. 1:26). Unlike any other creature in Eden or on earth, Adam and Eve were uniquely formed to reflect God’s image. God then blessed them and commissioned them: “Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it…” (Gen. 1:28). Humanity was created to live under God’s rule and to extend His reign throughout the world.   I began this sermon series by reading a quote from Owen Strachan’s book The Warrior Savior: “It was a tree that damned us. It was a tree that redeemed us. And it will be a tree that heals us in the age to come—time beyond all time.”[1]   Today, we turn our attention to the tree that ultimately redeemed us—the tree upon which Another was cursed in our place. As Strachan observes, “Adam, the first man, was a priest and a king unto God. He lived and ruled under the divine regency of his Maker.”[2] Yet Adam failed. Through his disobedience, sin entered the world, and with it came death. As Paul explains, “Through one man sin entered into the world, and death through sin, and so death spread to all mankind… death reigned from Adam until Moses… Adam, who is a type of Him who was to come” (Rom. 5:12–14).   Humanity rebelled against God, the curse entered creation, and death became an ever-present reality. But the story does not end there. God promised that the curse would not have the final word. From the very beginning, Scripture reveals not a collection of disconnected stories, but one unfolding story—a story of how God moves toward a cursed people and a broken creation with redemption. This morning, we come to a passage where the apostle Paul explains—explicitly and unmistakably—what that story has always been about. Galatians 3:10–14 is not a detour from the story we have been tracing; it is Paul putting words to it. Here, the curse is named, the problem is clarified, and the solution is revealed with stunning clarity.   Paul tells us plainly, “All who rely on works of the law are under a curse” (3:10; BSB). That statement may sound severe. But it is the biblical diagnosis of the human condition. The origin of that curse is ancient. It reaches back to Eden, where God created humanity for life, fellowship, obedience, and worship. When Adam and Eve disobeyed God, sin entered the world, the curse followed, and spiritual and physical death became the inevitable outcome.   The curse did not merely affect humanity inwardly; it affected creation itself. The ground was cursed. Thorns and thistles appeared. Pain, toil, suffering, and death became woven into the fabric of life. From that moment forward, every human has been born under the weight of that curse—inclined toward sin, separated from God, and unable to restore what was lost.   Paul’s point in Galatians is not that the law created the curse, but that the law exposes it. God’s commandments reveal the depth of our problem. They show us that no amount of effort, obedience, or religious devotion can undo what was broken in the garden. As Scripture says, “Cursed is everyone who does not abide by all the things written in the book of the Law, to do them” (Gal. 3:10). And none of us has.   Our Need Is a Righteousness We Cannot Produce To be under the curse is not to suffer from bad luck, karma, or chance; it is to stand under God’s righteous judgment. Our greatest problem is not circumstance or ignorance—it is that God is holy, and we are not. The law demands perfect righteousness—and we are incapable of producing it. That is why Paul insists, “No one is justified before God by works of the law. The righteous live by faith” (Gal. 3:11).   Think about the people we have looked at throughout this series. Reflect on the gravity of their sins. Adam let Eve eat the forbidden fruit, even though he had been told that doing so would bring death and curse. But as the priest and king appointed by God in Eden, he didn’t protest or intervene—he stood by, silent and passive—and then joined her. For what? Because both of them bought into the lie of the dragon that they could be just like God. In that moment, they tore apart the sacred boundary between creature and Creator, unleashing the curse that would plague every generation to come.   Consider the violence of Cain and his descendants—how they perverted the sacred institution of marriage and showed no regard for the sanctity of life. Reflect on Noah and his family: even after the flood, even after God’s rainbow appeared in the sky, sin still found its way into their lives. After Noah became drunk, his son Ham committed such a shameful act related to his father’s nakedness that Scripture does not even specify what it was. Think also about the Tower of Babel, where people sought to build an empire not for God’s glory, but for their own. All these accounts serve as a mirror, revealing just how broken and corrupted by sin humanity truly is.   Consider Abraham, weighed down by his own failures as a husband and father. Picture Isaac—his love for Esau burning brighter than his love for Jacob—splintering their family and sowing seeds of rivalry that tore through generations. Consider Jacob’s twelve sons, born to two wives. Their family was marked by jealousy, betrayal, and constant conflict, with discord replacing the harmony that should have filled their home. See Judah—drawn toward idols, taking a Canaanite wife, wandering far from the ways of God, his heart tangled in spiritual darkness.   And then Tamar, Judah’s daughter-in-law—driven to the brink by desperation and grief. Her life battered by the wickedness of Judah’s sons, she cloaked herself in the garments of a prostitute, her face veiled, her dignity hanging by a thread. She knew Judah’s moral weakness. When he passed by, she sold herself for silver—pain disguised as survival—his own lust blinding him to her true identity. This is not a sanitized tale; it is the raw, exposed reality of sin’s grip—brokenness that bleeds through families, hearts shattered and lives twisted by deceit and desire.   Shall I continue? I must—because it’s essential for you to grasp the full gravity of the word “cursed.”   Look at David: the mighty king, the poet, the man after God’s own heart—yet swept away by desire, stealing Bathsheba and orchestrating the death of her husband to cover his shame. Blood stained his hands, guilt gnawed his soul, and tragedy ravaged his house. Yet out of this relationship—marked by betrayal and sorrow—God, in His mercy, brought forth a way for hope to emerge. Their surviving son, Solomon, would rise from the ashes of their brokenness. Through Solomon’s line would come Joseph, the husband of Mary and stepfather of Jesus; and from David’s son Nathan would descend Mary herself, the mother who would cradle the Savior. Out of scandal and sorrow, God wove together the lineage through which the true and better David would come—a King crowned not by conquest, but by grace.   What connects all of these individuals is twofold—listen carefully. First, none could escape the curse of sin, a problem rooted in the heart. Second, nearly all of them stand in the lineage of Jesus. The Law given to Moses revealed to them—and to us—that their struggle was one only God could solve: “For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, abound to the many” (Rom. 5:15; BSB). As Paul explains, “Before faith came, we were held captive under the law… So then, the law was our guardian until Christ came, in order that we might be justified by faith” (Gal. 3:23–24).   This is where the story presses us toward hope. If the curse cannot be undone by our obedience, then liberation must come from outside of us. What we need is redemption; what we need is rescue. And that rescue must address the curse at its root. Our Only Hope Is That Christ Became Our Curse What is our hope? Our hope is that there is One who is able to save us from our sins by providing a righteousness that we could never produce on our own. Oh, my dear friends, this is exactly what we learn from Galatians 3:13–14. God has provided the righteousness we need—not through our obedience, but through Jesus Christ. Look at verse 13—you have to see this: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, ‘Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree.’”   How is it that a person is cursed on a tree? The answer is found in Deuteronomy 21:22–23. Under the Law of Moses, if a man committed a crime punishable by death and was executed, his body could be displayed on a tree or wooden post. This was not merely a method of disposal; it was a public declaration. To be hung on a tree was to be marked as one who stood under God’s judgment. Scripture says plainly, “Anyone who is hung on a tree is under God’s curse” (Deut. 22:23; BSB). In other words, to be hung on a tree was to be identified as extraordinarily cursed.   Now, look directly at the cross—see it for what it is. The very wood upon which Je

    45 min

  6. JAN 4

    The Rejected Promised One

    From the opening chapters of Scripture, the narrative of humanity is marked by the presence of a tree. At the heart of Eden stood two trees: the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The tree of life offered the promise of ongoing life, while the other was strictly off limits, carrying the warning that eating its fruit would bring death. When the first humans chose to take what God had forbidden, they inherited not blessing but a curse—banishment from paradise and the inheritance of death. Since that fateful day in Eden, we have lived beneath the shadow of that curse outside of Eden, our lives marked by its consequences.   Throughout this series, The Tree, we have traced God’s answer to the problem introduced in Eden. We have seen a promised Seed spoken of in the garden (Gen. 3:15), a promise preserved through judgment in the days of Noah (Gen. 6–9), narrowed through Abraham’s only son (Gen. 22), carried forward through broken families and deeply flawed people, guarded through exile and deliverance, and entrusted to kings who both reflected God’s purposes and failed to live up to them. Again and again, the message has been unmistakable: God’s promise advances not because His people are faithful, but because He is.   And then, in the fullness of time, the promise took on flesh (Gal. 4:4-7). The Word became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14). God did not merely speak again—He stepped into the story Himself (Heb. 1:1-2). Yet Luke 4 marks a decisive moment. Jesus is no longer simply the child of promise or the quiet presence of Immanuel. In Luke 4, Jesus stands up, opens the Scriptures, and for the first time publicly declares who He is and why He has come.   It is no mystery that we humans are a mess. Scripture does not flatter us, and history confirms the diagnosis. We are fallen creatures living under the curse of sin. We are born spiritually dead (Eph. 2:1), enslaved to desires we cannot master (Rom. 6:16), inclined to distort what God has called good (Rom. 1:21–25), and we live beneath the shadow of death—both physical and spiritual (Rom. 5:12). Though humanity still bears the image of God (Gen. 1:26–27), that image is no longer reflected as it once was. Our thinking is darkened, our lives disordered, and our relationships fractured. We were made for communion with God, yet we live far from Him.   This brokenness did not occur in a vacuum. Scripture is equally clear that there is an enemy in the story—real, personal, and malicious. Satan is the great antagonist of redemptive history, a murderer from the beginning who traffics in lies and delights in death. Jesus said of him, “He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him… for he is a liar and the father of lies” (John 8:44). Yet even in judgment, God spoke hope. To the serpent and the woman He declared that a descendant would come—One who would be wounded, yet in being wounded would crush the serpent’s head (Gen. 3:15). Death would strike, but it would not have the final word.   From that moment forward, the Scriptures move with expectation. God promised His people a Deliverer—someone greater than Moses (Deut. 18:15; Heb. 3:1–6), someone greater than David who would reign with justice and peace forever (2 Sam. 7:12–16; Ezek. 37:24–28), someone who would not merely rule but redeem. Through the prophets, God revealed that peace would come through suffering, that the One who would heal the world would first bear the curse Himself. Isaiah saw it clearly: “But He was pierced for our offenses, He was crushed for our wrongdoings… and by His wounds we are healed” (Isa. 53:5).   This is why the announcement of Jesus’ birth was not sentimental but staggering. When angels appeared to shepherds living in darkness, they did not proclaim a teacher or a moral example, but a Savior: “For today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11). As the apostle Paul later wrote, “For all the promises of God are “Yes” in Christ” (2 Cor. 1:20; BSB). Jesus is not one promise among many—He is the fulfillment of them all.   It is against this backdrop that Luke 4 unfolds. Jesus returns to His hometown of Nazareth, enters the synagogue, and is handed the scroll of the prophet Isaiah. He reads words every faithful Jew knew well:  “The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He anointed Me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent Me to proclaim release to captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the favorable year of the Lord” (Luke 4:18–19; Isa. 61:1–2).   After reading, Jesus sat down and declared, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” (Luke 4:21).  We are then told that the immediate response of those in the synagogue that day was that of admiration: “And all the people were speaking well of Him, and admiring the gracious words which were coming from His lips; and yet they were saying, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” (v. 22).  Now listen (or read) what Jesus said next: And He said to them, “No doubt you will quote this proverb to Me: ‘Physician, heal yourself! All the miracles that we heard were done in Capernaum, do here in your hometown as well.’” But He said, “Truly I say to you, no prophet is welcome in his hometown. But I say to you in truth, there were many widows in Israel in the days of Elijah, when the sky was shut up for three years and six months, when a severe famine came over all the land; and yet Elijah was sent to none of them, but only to Zarephath, in the land of Sidon, to a woman who was a widow. And there were many with leprosy in Israel in the time of Elisha the prophet; and none of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian.” (vv. 23-27)   Jesus mentioned two different people who had no biological connection to Abraham nor were they Jewish.  A prophet called to speak on behalf of God by the name of Elijah went to Zarephath under the direction of Yahweh, to a town full of Gentiles during a time that a famine also affected Israel, and yet Elijah went to a Gentile widow who God miraculously fed and protected during that famine (see 1 Kings 17:8–24). Listen, the point Jesus was making is this: The widow of Zarephath was a Gentile outsider—poor, desperate, and forgotten—yet she received the mercy Israel assumed belonged to them alone.   A second example Jesus gave was that of Naaman the Syrian who served as a commander of the enemies of Israel.  Jesus said, “And there were many with leprosy in Israel in the time of Elisha the prophet; and none of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian” (v. 27).     Listen to what we are told concerning Naaman in 2 Kings 5, “Now Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man in the view of his master, and eminent, because by him the Lord had given victory to Aram. The man was also a valiant warrior, but afflicted with leprosy” (v. 1).  And yet, God healed him! How was Naaman healed?  He was only healed after he humbled himself in obedience to the word of God delivered by Elisha the prophet (see 2 Kings 5:1-14).    What was Jesus’ main point? He was showing that the promise of a Deliverer and redemption was never exclusive to Israel, but it was intended for all nations. When Jesus read from Isaiah and proclaimed, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” (Luke 4:21), He wasn’t simply interpreting the passage—He was revealing Himself as its fulfillment. In that moment, Jesus was announcing His mission, His authority, and the inclusive nature of His kingdom. He declared Himself as the promised Deliverer—the greater Adam, the greater Abraham, the true Israel—and made clear that through Him, blessing would extend to every nation, not just one people.   In Luke 4:25–27, Jesus reminds His hometown that God sent Elijah to a Gentile widow in Zarephath and healed Naaman the Syrian—an enemy commander—making clear that God’s mercy is received through Jesus by faith to all who will receive it, not where privilege assumes it.   There are four facets of Jesus’ ministry that is described in these verses:   Jesus Came as Good News to the Poor for All People Jesus clarifies the kind of poverty He has in view when He says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 5:3). This poverty is not merely economic. Scripture and experience alike tell us that not all who are materially poor long for God. The poor in spirit are those who recognize their spiritual bankruptcy before Him—those who know they have nothing to offer God but their need. Jesus is good news to such people precisely because it is only through Jesus that one can have God. Those who believe themselves rich in righteousness will feel no need for a Savior, but those who know they are empty will discover that Christ is everything.   Jesus Came to Set Captives Free Out from the Nations Scripture declares, “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23). Every human being is born enslaved to sin—any violation of God’s holy standard. Human experience confirms what Scripture teaches: “The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9). Apart from Christ, every one of us stands under judgment (Rev. 20:11–15). This is why Jesus came. As John the Baptist proclaimed, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29). When Jesus read Isaiah 61 in the synagogue, His hearers assumed He was announcing political liberation and national restoration. What they did not understand was that their deepest captivity was not Roman oppression but spiritual bondage. Jesus came to proclaim liberty to captives

    47 min

  7. 12/28/2025

    The Table

    Meadowbrooke Church

    50 min

  8. 12/24/2025

    Jesus, God With Us

    God’s Promise Was to Save Us, Not Simply Inspire Us When the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary, he announced news unlike anything the world had ever heard: “You will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” (Luke 1:30–33). This was not merely the announcement of a child, but of a King—a King whose reign would never end. For the first time in history, God took on human flesh.   Immanuel became tired like us, hungry like us, exhausted like us; in every way Jesus became like us, yet without sin. He was born so that we would have One who could truly sympathize with our weaknesses, so that we might receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need (Heb. 4:14–16). The angel didn’t tell Mary she would give birth to a teacher or a moral example, but to a King and a Savior; One who would be call “Son of the Most High” and whose Kingdom would never end.     What Gabriel told Mary tells us something important about ourselves—our greatest problem isn’t ignorance, weakness, or circumstance, but sin. Our greatest need is redemption.   We spend our lives trying to fix what’s broken, but Christmas declares that God came to do what we could not—to save lost sinners. This is why Jesus said: “For the Son of Man came to seek and save the lost” (Luke 19:10).   God Came to Us When We Could Not Come to Him On the night Jesus was born, God did not summon kings, dignitaries, or celebrities; He invited shepherds. To the poorest of the poor, the angels declared, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” And then heaven itself erupted in praise: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” When the shepherds arrived at the manger, they beheld something staggering—the Word of God in human flesh.   John tells us that all things were made through Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made. The power that created the universe lay wrapped in swaddling cloths; the One through whom the heavens were made was sleeping in a feeding trough. In Him was life, and that life was the light of men, and the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.   Some people walk into Christmas Eve feeling unworthy, unseen, or spiritually distant. The shepherds are proof that with God, it does not matter how far you are from Him, for He is the God who meets sinners where they are—to save them, to redeem them, and to bring them out of spiritual death into new life.   We have a God whose mercy, love, and grace are far greater than our worst sins and any distance we imagine exists between Him and us. As Scripture says, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Cor. 5:17).   Jesus Entered Our Darkness to Deliver Us from It The darkness Jesus entered was not merely the darkness of night, but the darkness that has covered the human heart since Eden. Ever since Adam and Eve were driven from the garden, humanity has lived outside—outside the place of God’s immediate presence, outside in the wilderness of thorns and sweat, pain and death. Though the Creator came into the world He made, John tells us the world did not recognize Him, and even His own people did not receive Him. What the world needed most stood in its midst, and it hardly noticed. Yet this is the wonder of Christmas: God came anyway. The promised Savior entered a world marked by sin and sorrow to bring light where only darkness reigned.   Christmas speaks to our guilt, our grief, and our weariness—and it does more than speak to them; it swallows them up by the light of the life of Jesus.   Some of you are carrying grief, regret, despair, and hopelessness into this room. The message and promise of Christmas is that unto us was born a Savior who steps into the darkness to conquer it.   Jesus Came for Those Who Know They are Far from God The message to the shepherds was simple and clear: “And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11).    Jesus was born to redeem sinners who were and are real people: real broken people, real guilty people, real overlooked people, and real people living in shame. The Bible shows us this even in Jesus’ family tree—God-usurpers like Adam, schemers like Abraham and Sarah, the guilty like Judah, the exploited like Tamar, prostitutes like Rahab, widows like Naomi, outsiders like Ruth, adulterers and murderers like David, and the grieving like Bathsheba.   When you look at Jesus’ family line, you don’t find a list of heroes—you find a gallery of grace. Broken marriages, moral failures, exploitation, grief, and loss. And God placed them there on purpose, to show us the kind of people Jesus came to save.   Jesus came for people like them, and He came for people like us. He came to break the chains of sin and death, to reverse the curse, and to make peace by the blood of His cross.   And that brings us to the most personal question of Christmas: what do we do with this Savior?   Christmas is an Invitation, Not Just an Announcement John tells us that “He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God...” (John 1:10-12).  Then, John wrote one of the most astonishing sentences ever penned: “The Word became flesh, and dwelt among us....” (v. 14). Literally, He made His home with us.   God chose to reverse the curse not by removing us from the world, but by entering it—by dwelling among us in the person of His Son. Why? So that we might finally come home.   I don’t know where you are tonight or what you’re carrying; I don’t know the pain you carry or the disappointments that weigh on your heart, but I do know this—Jesus came not to condemn you, but to make you whole.   This Christmas Eve, the invitation is simple: come to the Light, come to the Word made flesh, come home.  Jesus must be received by faith, not merely admired from a distance.   This Christmas Eve, the invitation is simple: come to the Light, come to the Savior, find your light and life in Him.   Conclusion In just a moment, the lights in this room will be dimmed, and one small flame will be passed from candle to candle. And as that light spreads, I want you to remember this: the darkness was not overcome by noise or force, but by the Light of Christ. That is how God came to us—not with spectacle, but with a child; not with condemnation, but with grace.   Jesus entered our darkness to save us. This news is called the gospel of Jesus Christ. Here is how the apostle Paul described this News and promise of Christmas: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek” (Rom. 1:16).   And tonight, as the light moves from one person to the next, may it remind you that no darkness is too deep, no past so bad, and no heart too far gone for the Light of the gospel of Jesus Christ to overcome. As John 1:5 promises: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

    34 min
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Ratings & Reviews

5
out of 5
5 Ratings

About

Podcast for Meadowbrooke Church Season 1 - Identity (Ephesians) Season 2 - Christians Say the Darnedest Things - Season 2 Season 3 - The Shepherd (Psalm 23) Season 4 - Faith & Works (James) Season 5 - Guest Speakers Season 6 - The Tree Season 7 - Unassigned Season 8 - Revelation

Information

  • Creator
    Meadowbrooke Church
  • Years Active
    2019 - 2026
  • Episodes
    100
  • Rating
    Clean
  • Copyright
    © Meadowbrooke Church
  • Show Website
    Meadowbrooke Church